A Private Matter
by Mopshadow
Summary: When Miles Edgeworth finds out - through some unlikely sources - that Phoenix is in the hospital, he is none too pleased with the ex-attorney. Takes place during Apollo Justice.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: In celebration of Dual Destinies finally getting an official release date, I decided to write this little story. It's AJ-era and takes place during the second case, Turnabout Corner. I'm planning on about two or three chapters if people like this little blurb enough for me to continue.**

-Wright Talent Agency-

Apollo's head was spinning. Somehow his relatively easy morning of job-hunting had turned into a trip to the hospital and a hunt for a missing noodle wagon. Well, they had found the wagon.

...And the body attached to it.

At least he had a job now.

Not to mention that this had all happened too close to Mr. Wright's car accident to be just a coincidence.

But what did that have to do with the panty thief? Nothing was adding up...

_Aaaaaagh!_

This case was proving to be more frustrating than it was worth.

Apollo looked around the messy room. Was this place really once an office? _'Was'_ being the operative word. Stacks of magic equipment were cluttered in every available floor space- the hats and bunnies kind of magic, not the creepy stuff, much to Apollo's relief. He really would have been reconsidering his options, then. A grand piano had miraculously managed to wedge itself along the back wall, though it was obviously unused if the piles of hoops and playing cards scattered across the top were anything to go by.

_Pianist my ass._

Apollo had the sneaking suspicion that the trick box in the corner- the kind people usually got magically sawn in half in, he noted with some concern- was currently being repurposed as a closet. This mess was all evidence of Trucy's aspiring career as an amateur magician, a path her father didn't seem to discourage. Speaking of Trucy, had he just agreed to work for a fifteen year old? Apollo didn't know if he should try to get out now or if it was already too late.

Either way, they were wasting time. They should be out investigating or consulting Mr. Wright with their findings, but Trucy had insisted they come back to the Agency for something _'really important'_.

Apollo was afraid to take a seat on either of the sofas, so instead he shuffled awkwardly in the doorway and waited for Trucy to come back from wherever she had disappeared to.

The phone started ringing.

"Polly! Can you get that?" Trucy called from another room.

"Ah, no? It's your phone!" he yelled back. Where even was the phone in this mess?

_And stop calling me 'Polly'! I'm not a bird!_

"Just answer it!" Trucy called again, not coming out.

_Fine!_

Apollo moved further into the room and scrambled to find the phone. The receiver was nowhere to be found and the phone was already on the third ring.

_How can they find anything in this mess?_

The phone stopped ringing before Apollo could find it. He froze, hands hovering over a pile of scattered playing cards, not sure what to do. Trucy was probably going to be mad at him for missing the call.

A moment later the phone started ringing again.

_P-Persistent!_

"Polly!"

"I can't find it!"

_Hoop. Wand. Glove. Hat. Spaghe-ew!_

He wiped his hand on some unsuspecting boxes. What Mr. Wright didn't know wouldn't hurt Apollo.

"Look on the couch!" Trucy said, her voiced sounded fainter this time. She must have moved further back into the building.

_Which one?_

Apollo scooted his way around the coffee table. The couches were probably the only uncluttered surfaces in the room. Apollo pulled up the cushions.

_Gotcha!_

Nabbing the phone, Apollo hit the receive button automatically before he missed the call again.

_Um... what should I say?_

"...Wright Talent Agency!" he practically shouted into the speaker.

_Real smooth, Justice._

The other line was silent. Apollo pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to check that yes, he had picked up the call. The area code and number were completely unfamiliar, though.

_Well of course they are; it's not your phone!_

When the silence persisted, Apollo tried again, this time, less nervous and, well, loud. "...Can I help you?"

"Who is this? Who is speaking?" A voice asked- demanded-from the other line. It was deep and clearly male. Male and very unfriendly.

_Hey, isn't that my line? And why is this guy so hostile?_

Not expecting to be yelled at so suddenly, Apollo started blurting out answers, anyways. "Um... Apollo Justice speaking! I'm... new."

There was a pause from the other end. "Ah, yes, Wright mentioned you. You're the new attorney."

"Uh, yeah, I guess?" Now Apollo was less put off by the guy's tone and more suspicious of his knowledge. He had only just joined the Agency this morning, and it had been more of a fluke than anything. How did this guy know so much?

"Is Wright there?" The man continued before Apollo could ask any questions of his own. "I'm having trouble reaching him on his cellphone..."

_Wait, this guy was trying to get a hold of Mr. Wright? But Mr. Wright was..._

"Oh," Apollo said. "Then I guess you haven't heard about the accident?"

Apollo heard the man take a sharp breath.

"...Accident?"

"Yeah, Mr. Wright was hit by a car. He's in the hospital."

"Nnnngh..."

_Ah! What is with this guy?_

"But he's okay!" Apollo quickly added, trying to calm the man down. Or at least get him to stop making strange noises. "He just-"

"What hospital?" The man cut him of tersely.

"Um, the clinic. Hickfield Clinic."

The call disconnected with a click.

Well that had been a... quick conversation.

And a rude one.

_Who even was that guy?_

Apollo wondered if he should call up the hospital and inform Mr. Wright that some angry guy was looking for him, but thought better of it. It would serve the ex-attorney right to get an unexpected call from the rude man himself. Maybe Apollo had just a little too much spite left over from that fiasco of defending Phoenix Wright himself. He'd lost his job and his personal credibility that day.

Yeah, no, he would not be calling Mr. Wright.

When Trucy came back into the room, Apollo was still holding the phone to his ear, not sure what to do with himself. Or where to put the phone. Not back under the cushions, that was for sure.

"Who was that, Polly?" Trucy asked, her hands clasped behind her back curiously. Apollo realized he'd never had the chance to ask the man's name.

"I'm not sure. They didn't say," he admitted.

"Oh, okay. Hey, Polly?"

"Yes?"

"Pick a card." Trucy held out a deck of old Pink Princess themed playing cards.

"That's what we came here for!?"

-High Prosecutor's Office, Somewhere in Germany-

Edgeworth still had his hand clenched around the phone he had just slammed into the receiver.

_Accident? Hospital?_

He knew something had been wrong when Wright had failed to return his calls for the past several hours. Phoenix always called to wish him good luck the night before a trial, a sappy, sentimental gesture that only _that man_ would be capable of thinking up. None the less, it had worried Edgeworth when seven o'clock came around and no call had come. Despite the time zone difference, Wright was always mindful of Edgeworth's schedule, even when Miles didn't explicitly say he would be in the office late. On those nights, Phoenix would tell him not to work too hard and when Miles would demand to know how on Earth the other man knew that he was still working, Wright would just respond with an easy "Because I know you, Miles," and Edgeworth would hear that big, crooked smile in his voice.

But none of that nauseatingly heart-warming stuff mattered right now because Phoenix had still not called him when eight o' clock had passed. It was then that Edgeworth had first called Wright's cellphone, worried that he may have passed out at the Borscht Bowl Club again. Honestly, drinking on the job was not one of Phoenix's healthier habits. No matter how much he insisted to his daughter that it was just grape juice, Miles knew _exactly_ what Phoenix had taken to drinking. Edgeworth prepared himself for a brief conversation with one of the waitresses or other employees who were all used to fishing out Wright's cellphone to save themselves from finding him transport. He'd also have to call up either Gumshoe or Larry- or anyone else in the area willing to drag Phoenix's drunken ass home. But when Edgeworth dialed the number, he didn't even get a dial tone. Upon being directed straight to voicemail, Miles had hung up and dialed again. And again. And again. Each time he had, predictably, gotten the same result.

He had dialed the number for the Borscht Bowl Club.

Phoenix had not come into work last night. In fact, he had called in briefly this morning asking for sick leave.

_Sick leave?_

More worried than ever, Miles had resorted to calling the Wright and C- no, what was it called these days? The Wright Talent Agency? Something ridiculous like that, but how could anyone say no to such a sweet little girl? Wright certainly had trouble with her. And Miles...

_Trucy... Where is your damn father?_

Miles dialed the number for what used to be the Wright and Co. Law Offices. The clock in his office was now pushing past nine, so it should only be around noon back in California. When Edgeworth had got a dial tone he felt a little better than when he had received a direct voicemail, but it was short lived as the phone was left to ring out.

_Phoenix Wright where are you?_

Briefly considering the logical reasons why no one would be answering the phone, Edgeworth had dialed again. It was still Monday in the States. Trucy should be in school at this hour, though Edgeworth dreaded to wonder what her attendance record looked like. It was only natural that she wouldn't be home to answer the phone...

Someone had picked up.

It was only after a very brief and revealing conversation with one Apollo Justice that Edgeworth had all the facts.

His desk was still cluttered with mismatched files pulled from tomorrow's court record. Evidence and facts that Edgeworth had previously been trying to piece logically together into a perfect case were now forgotten and instead he found himself staring at the number to the Hickfield Clinic on his computer monitor. His hand moved absently again for the phone, prepared to dial, but then he stopped. He needed a moment to think.

_Wright was in an accident... What if he hasn't called me because he can't? What if he's severely... no. I would have been contacted. By the hospital. By Trucy. By Larry, for crying out loud. Calm down, Edgeworth. Phoenix has probably just done something stupid again._

And Phoenix _was_ prone to bone-headed moves. For all the genius he was in the court, sometimes Phoenix was a complete idiot. A complete idiot who had the audacity to call into work sick from the hospital, but not inform Edgeworth as such. And to rack up Edgeworth's phone bill with all the international calls in the process.

A complete idiot who got himself hit by a car.

Miles fumbled with the phone again, but paused before dialing. When he had reached over for the phone, something jingled loosely in his pocket. The sound gave him a pause. With his free hand, Miles reached down and withdrew a handful of small trinkets from his pocket. He laid them out on the desk. Amongst the loose change, two items stood out.

The first one was his prosecutor's badge. Miles didn't really have a good reason why he kept it stored away. Wearing it probably would have helped him in quite a few situations, Miles had to agree, but he simply preferred to keep it in his pocket. Thinking about it now, he couldn't remember if maybe it was a habit he had tried to emulate from von Karma, or if it had been simply easier to accept the fact that he was now the opposite of father-a punisher instead of a protector-by keeping the evidence hidden away. Miles absently rolled the badge between his fingers. Maybe he kept it there because he didn't want the world to know he was a prosecutor and judge him for it. Phoenix had certainly had his share of being called an 'ambulance chaser' over the years due to his occupation. Though, with the way Wright shoved his badge at anyone who would listen, he probably deserved it. Miles decided he would have to see if Franziska wore hers the next time she visited. That would settle the matter. He put his badge back on the desk.

The second item was even more of an uncommon thing to find in one's pocket. Miles picked up the simple gold band and slipped it onto his ring finger. It felt unnatural there, bare before the world. He almost never wore it, Miles realized with a start. It was the kind of thing a person would be expected to wear if they owned one. Phoenix wore his, or at least he did when Miles visited, but Miles never felt quite right with it on his finger. It was a private thing, a thing other people didn't need to see. Wearing it would just invite them to pry. So Miles kept the ring in his pocket, next to his badge. They were kind of silly things to be put together, one representing his job and the other his private life, but it all made an odd sort of sense to him. After all, if it weren't for his occupation he would have never crossed paths with Phoenix again. As Miles stopped rolling the ring absently around his finger to pick up the phone again it felt heavier somehow.

_Phoenix... why does it seem that all I can do for you these days is give you a phone call?_

Miles placed the phone back in the receiver and instead found himself looking at airfares. He would have to fly into New York and exchange again in Dallas, but he could get to California in a little over twenty hours on such short notice. He booked a ticket.

Next, he hastily rolled his chair back from his desk so he could open the bottom drawer. Out of one of the neatly labeled files he pulled a form he rarely used, if ever. He would need to request a substitute prosecutor for tomorrow's trial. The ring still on his finger glinted under his dim reading light. Under his reason for the reassignment he simply wrote "Family Emergency".

Miles printed the plane tickets.

There was an emergency suitcase that Miles always kept packed in the trunk of his car after the last disaster when Phoenix had fallen off that bridge. The bridge that was on fire at the time, no less. Phoenix never did things half-way. The suitcase wasn't always used for emergencies, of course. Sometimes Miles would find himself free of a new case for a few days and would debate whether or not he had enough time to fly all the way out to California and back before his work began to pile up. Of course, these opportunities were so infrequent that Miles couldn't really consider what he and Phoenix had anything more than "extremely long distance".

Thinking again, Miles looked up directions from the LAX to Hickfield Clinic. It wasn't far from the old defense offices, so Edgeworth figured he wouldn't get too lost. He printed the directions, anyways. Miles Edgeworth was always perfectly prepared, unlike a certain other ex-attorney he knew.

Given how close the clinic Wright had been transferred to was to the Wright Talent Agency, Miles was more than slightly concerned that Phoenix's run-in with the car was no simple accident. Nothing was ever simple with that man, except for maybe his brains.

...And his heart.

Miles grabbed his finalized plane tickets and driving directions off the printer, along with the case reassignment form, and shoved them in with the papers he hurriedly stacked and put back into the court record. He left his office in a hurry to head home for what promised to be a sleepless night, even if Wright's new rookie had claimed Phoenix was perfectly fine. Perfectly fine people didn't end up in hospitals.

He would leave first-thing tomorrow morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! On the bright side, it's longer than the last chapter. The goal is to finish this story before Dual Destinies releases so I will try to be better about uploading!**

-LAX-

After almost an entire day of airports and flying, Miles Edgeworth's mood had considerably soured. That morning - or whatever time it had been in this time zone - he had been almost eager to leave for California, though his eagerness may have stemmed more from worry than happiness at a reunion as Phoenix had still failed to contact him the rest of the night. Checking his phone after he disembarked from his last flight, Miles noted that still no calls had come since his last transfer. This might have more worrying to Miles if jet-lag wasn't starting to kick in. Instead, he shoved his phone back into his pocket with spite and groggily made his way to baggage claim.

He had had to sit in the economy class, which had been awful. Miles didn't like to admit it, but he had definitely grown used to the luxury of first class- or at least as much luxury as a giant metal can careening though the air ten thousand feet up could provide. Bumping around in the back of the plane had not been a pleasant experience combined with his fear of heights and... turbulence.

No, Miles was not overly fond of flying.

Somehow during his travels, Miles' concern for Phoenix had transformed into irritation over what he had to go through to get here.

Miles begrudgingly picked up his suitcase from the baggage claim. As he tiredly made his way to the rental car garage, his luggage rattling along behind him, he continued to curse Wright's foolishness for dragging him all the way out here. Miles Edgeworth was having to rent a car. Unheard of. Given the situation, Miles supposed that he would just have to do without his precious red sports model, but the SUV waiting for him was not something he ever pictured himself behind the wheel of. Wright was going to pay for making him look like a soccer-mom.

Not to mention that, of all the possible colors, the accursed vehicle just so happened to be blue.

_Wright, you'd better appreciate this._

Miles climbed into the SUV with haste, but before driving off he checked his phone once more.

No missed calls.

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Something metallic clacked in protest against the plastic. Miles felt around until his fingers grasped the offending object.

It was his ring.

Miles pulled it out of his pocket and toyed with gold band a little, shifting it from hand to hand. Phoenix would probably be glad to see him wearing it, and it would definitely cheer the other man up if he was actually hurt. Still, Miles was hesitant to put it on. In the end he slipped it back into his pocket and started the car, which stalled a little before the engine turned over.

_Damn you, Phoenix Wright._

**-Hickfield Clinic-**

It was the second day of his first trial as a member the Wright Talent Agency, and Apollo was ready to completely reconsider his choice of career. Not only was the case itself one big, unrelated mystery after another, but there was also the matter of the opposing attorney.

Whoever made Klavier Gavin a prosecutor should be smacked. Repeatedly. That guy could not possibly be related to Mr. Gavin. No way, _baby_. And then there was that crazy detective they had run into. What was her name again- Ema Skye? Apollo made a mental note to steer clear of her in the future. Although, she was pretty handy with her science – uh—gizmos.

And then there was the fact that his client may or may not have tie-ins with vicious gansters (he most definitely did) and more than just Apollo's beginner's luck record was at stake if he lost this case.

Talk about putting his neck on the line for this kid.

_I'm fine! Everything will be okay!_

At the moment, Apollo was back in Wright's hospital room, sitting in one of the visitation chairs along the wall. The second day of the trial was over and he needed to look at the facts again, not to mention mull over the story Mr. Wright had just told him about how he'd lost his badge. It was pretty heavy stuff. Of course, Mr. Wright wasn't being much help. He seemed to be far more interested in some kids' TV show he was watching on his DVD player than the case at hand. Apollo vaguely recalled it from his childhood as being call "The Steel Samurai". Actually, Mr. Wright's hospital room barely looked like the resting place of a sick, recuperating patient. Apollo supposed that the stacks of DVDs were okay, but the amount cluttered around the room were a bit overkill. Stacks and stacks of DVD cases were all balanced so precariously that Apollo was sure just breathing on them wrong would send them tumbling. Some of the disks weren't even in their cases, just scattered around within Mr. Wright's arm-reach. After seeing the office yesterday, this mess only added to Apollo's concerns about the organizational habits of the Wrights. He wasn't sure if he should even ask about the mini piano. Mr. Wright couldn't play the one in his office, let alone the one at his job. And why on Earth was it pink?

_Can I really work for this man?_

Apollo sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

More precisely, what had Mr. Wright gotten him into?

The credits for the episode Wright was watching started rolled and he reached for another disk. Since sitting here wasn't accomplishing anything, Apollo wondered if he should take this opportunity to skip out while he still could. Maybe he would grab Trucy on the way and consult her with the case instead, seeing how she was being far more helpful than Mr. Wright at the moment. She had left him to fend for himself against her father while she looked for a vending machine.

_Probably to make all the snacks magically disappear_, Apollo thought, as he hadn't seen Wright hand her any cash on the way out.

Yep, now was definitely a good time to leave. Being alone with Mr. Wright for too long was bad for his health.

_I need to get a better social life_, Apollo realized bitterly.

Just as Apollo was preparing some excuse to get up, there was a loud commotion that resounded through the door from the hallway. Apollo sat back down. What he assumed were the voices and footsteps of several distressed nurses could be heard drawing closer, as well as an obnoxious scraping noise that was echoing down the hall.

Maybe Apollo would just stay put for now...

_I hope Trucy didn't get into any trouble... Or that that Hickfield guy isn't slinking around again._

"Sir, you can't bring that in here!"

"The hell I can't!"

"Please slow down, sir! No running in the halls!"

"Don't go down there! You have to sign in first!"

"MMMMM!"

The disruption was getting louder still; it must have been right outside the hospital room now. Apollo wasn't sure if he should peak out the door to make sure everything was okay, but when he glanced at Wright he stopped in his tracks. For the first time since Apollo had met him in person, Mr. Wright looked stricken. One hand was still holding a DVD, ready to be popped in and played, but all of Mr. Wright's attention seemed to be solely focused on the commotion coming from the hall.

The door slammed open. A man in a very shocking maroon suit came strutting in, wheeling a small red suitcase behind him. That would explain the awful sound Apollo had heard, the poor object's wheels were obviously not designed for speed. Three nurses rushed in before the door could shut again.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this man-" one of the flustered nurses began, only to be stopped short by the man causing all the ruckus. He was a very pretty man, Apollo noted. A very pretty, angry man.

Actually, he looked kind of familiar...

"Phoenix Wright, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Apollo turned back to Mr. Wright. If he had looked stricken before, he looked absolutely astonished now. The hand with the DVD was still raised, but now the other was resting on his beanie, pulling the brim of it back so he could squint at the trespasser in disbelief.

"M-Miles? Is that really you?" He said when he seemed to find his voice again. Apollo had certainly never seen Mr. Wright act like this.

_More ghosts from the past?_ Apollo wondered. Though that name definitely sounded familiar... Miles... Miles...

"Oh, don't act so surprised, Wright," the man in the suit reprimanded. Apollo couldn't say much about his suit, given the color of his own, but this guy was even wearing a cravat. Talk about stuffy. And angry. This must be the man he had spoken on the phone with, Apollo realized. He'd forgotten about the whole ordeal that had happened yesterday until now. But seeing this guy in person, Apollo had no doubt.

_I must have seen him before_, Apollo thought_. He looks so familiar... Maybe from the television? No, that can't be it. No one on TV would bother with Mr. Wright. But, why would a guy like this bother with Mr. Wright, either? He looks so... professional._

Mr. Wright was absolutely not professional.

One of the nurses was holding a clipboard and promptly used the next silence to shove it under the man's nose.

"Sir, I really don't care what you bring in here, but you _must_ sign in."

The man sighed and took the clipboard from her, as if breaking his cold glare at Mr. Wright was some great inconvenience. He jotted something down before handing it back. She gave him an odd look after she read over it, but left with the other two nurses after her request was fulfilled.

It was just the three of them now. Though, judging by the fact that neither of them had spared a glance in his direction for the past few minutes, Apollo supposed he was more of a spectator.

The man crossed his arms and returned to glaring pointedly at Mr. Wright after the door shut behind the nurses. Intensely glaring. Apollo was glad it wasn't directed at him. This guy was scary. "I think you know why I'm here, Wright."

Suddenly, the Phoenix Wright that Apollo was all too familiar with returned. Mr. Wright pulled his beanie back down and smirked coyly from underneath it. He looked pretty smug for a guy in a hospital bed.

"Actually, I have no idea. Why don't you enlighten me, Miles?"

After a few moments of the suited-man glaring and Mr. Wright smiling playfully back, 'Miles' reached one hand down and dug into his pant pocket.

He pulled out a prosecutor's badge.

"Phoenix Wright, you are under arrest."

_What?!_

This was a turn of events. Though maybe that was why the nurse had given the man a strange look. Maybe he used some sort of secret police override code or-

_Shut up, Justice. That doesn't exist._

Wait a second. Miles? Prosecutor? Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth? The great court rival of Phoenix Wright? Apollo almost jumped out of his chair when it all came together. Of course! That would explain the weird suit. And the cravat. Apollo knew all about Miles Edgeworth. He was even more of a legend than Phoenix Wright! But why was he trying to arrest Mr. Wright? Did he still harbor some sort of grudge from their court days?

And why did Mr. Wright refer to him so familiarly? Last time Apollo checked, they were rivals. Or had been, at least.

Maybe Mr. Wright was just trying to goad him. It would be something the ex-attorney would do. Or, at least something he would do to Apollo.

_Polly..._

Apollo shuddered.

Edgeworth had slipped his badge back into his pocket and folded his arms over his chest again. It was rather… intimidating. Apollo may have involuntarily sunk back in his chair.

Wright, however, remained unperturbed by this development.

"Is that so?" he asked nonchalantly. "What are my offenses?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes taunting.

_Mr. Wright what are you doing? This guy is trying to arrest you! Don't egg him on!_

Mr. Wright was seriously stressing him out. This whole ordeal was going to give him an ulcer. Apollo decided it would be best to remain silent and not draw attention to himself. Mr. Wright seemed to know what he was doing.

...But then again, Apollo didn't trust Mr. Wright very much.

_That's right, Justice. Be the chair..._

Mr. Edgeworth continued his assault.

"Well, for one, you haven't been answering your cellphone, or any other number for that matter. Number two would be all the trouble I had to go through to find out that you were in the hospital because you were _hit by a car_," the prosecutor ground out every syllable like they personally offended him. "Phoenix, why didn't you call me? Look at yourself!"

's easygoing demeanor finally cracked. He set his DVD aside and attempted to get up from the bed, pulling the covers aside carefully around the swaying piles of cases and disks.

"Don't stand up, you idiot! You're going to hurt yourself." Edgeworth rushed forward and forced Wright back down onto his pillows, abandoning his suitcase by the door.

"Miles, Miles, stop. I'm okay, really," Mr. Wright tried to reassure the man while he pushed his hands away. Edgeworth ignored him, though, and continued to fret.

"You call this okay?" Apollo could have sworn that he was actually trying to tuck Mr. Wright back in.

Okay... Now Apollo was completely lost.

"Um..." he decided to speak up, clearing his throat when he failed to catch their attention. Two heads snapped towards him. Edgeworth withdrew his hands quickly from where he had been fighting with Mr. Wright's over control of the hospital sheet, as if he had just realized that Apollo had been sitting there the whole time.

So much for being the chair. Apollo straightened up a little now that the attention was on him. "So... you're not going to arrest him?"

Mr. Wright started laughing. Edgeworth gave him a strange look.

"Of course not," the prosecutor replied. His tone insinuated that Apollo should feel like an idiot for even asking. It was working.

"Give the kid a break, Miles," Mr. Wright said, for once coming to Apollo's defense. "He's kind of slow." Or not.

_Hey! I'm just fine, no thanks to you._

Apollo was going to raise an objection, but it seemed that the two men had forgotten about him again.

"What... what are these?" Edgeworth asked, delicately picking up one of the carelessly scattered disks on Mr. Wright's bed. The piles had become even more muddled during their scuffle with the bed sheet.

_Oh, good_, Apollo thought_. I'm not the only one who finds his choice in TV shows weird. It's just not natural for a man of his age to-_

"Wright," the prosecutor said, interrupting Apollo's internal monologue. "Are these from _my_ collection?"

Apollo sputtered. Not him too...

Mr. Edgeworth was glaring again, and this time he seemed even angrier than before. The hand that was not holding the disk was firmly planted on the bed frame and he looked prepared to chew Wright out.

Mr. Wright hid further under his beanie.

"Actually, Maya sent them. So there."

"I was lending them to her."

Mr. Wright's smirk disappeared.

"Oh, well then, yeah. They're yours."

Mr. Edgeworth turned pale for a moment, as if his life was flashing before his eyes. The one DVD he held was clutched protectively against his chest.

_I think this is the most surreal situation I've ever been in_, Apollo thought. And he had been in some pretty weird positions, including the events of his first trial and meeting… Klavier Gavin. _Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright are fighting over a children's TV show... And Mr. Wright is losing._

Mr. Edgeworth regained himself.

"Phoenix Wright, if there is even _one scratch_ on these disks than so help me-"

"Hey! Look! They're perfectly fine!" Mr. Wright gestured to the haphazard piles of cases. "Perfectly fine" were not the words Apollo would have used. "We can even watch them together, now. If you want."

That quieted Edgeworth down, though Apollo could have sworn that he heard him mutter something about an "extremely rare collector's edition" while he picked through the piles and began to neatly put the unprotected disks away. His new piles looked much more stable than Mr. Wright's had been.

"I'm still not happy with you," Edgeworth grumbled as he continued his work.

"Aw, come on. We can start with episode one..?" Mr. Wright's face emerged from his beanie now that he wasn't being attacked.

Edgeworth chose to ignore him, continuing to stack cases. Apollo thought he might have seen the slightest crack in the man's frown.

"Miles..."

"..."

"Don't be like that." Mr. Wright pleaded, though it was in his usual off-handed manner. Apollo was beginning to feel like he should excuse himself.

Actually, he really should excuse himself. This whole meeting felt... private. Apollo really didn't want to think about it, but with the way the two men were acting it was almost as if they were... well... _very close_.

"I'm just going to-" Apollo started, but he was interrupted by the door opening. He glanced over.

This time, Trucy was standing in the doorway. Just standing, with her hand over her mouth. She looked surprised. Apollo supposed anyone would be surprised when getting their first glimpse of Mr. Edgeworth- and all that maroon- but Trucy was failing to recover. Maybe it had something to do with the way the prosecutor was looming over her father.

Apollo looked back to see that both Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth had their attention turned to her. Mr. Edgeworth put his DVDs down.

"Ahem," Mr. Edgeworth straightened up. "Trucy. I didn't know you were here."

_So he knows Trucy_... Apollo felt like his theory was getting dangerously close to confirmation. But that would be so...

_Maybe he's just a good friend of the family?_

Trucy unfroze a little, her eyes suddenly lighting up. "...Papa!" she exclaimed before launching herself at the man.

_Papa!? But that means Mr. Edgeworth really is...!_ Apollo watched Trucy jump gleefully into Edgeworth's arms. Wright looked unsurprised by her reaction, only smiling at the two of them.

_I really need to get out of here!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I _was_ going to post this chapter in honor of the demo coming to the eShop... but then I played the demo... several times. (Seriously, those 30 tries are not going to last me until the 24th). Anyways, in case you didn't know, there is a demo for Dual Destinies in the eShop now!**

-Hickfield Clinic-

"...Papa!"

Edgeworth was suddenly bombarded by flying limbs. Two boney arms hooked around his neck while the rest of Trucy hung off of him as dead weight.

"Nnnngh... Trucy. I can't breathe." Edgeworth removed her from around his throat as gently as he could and set her down. She had certainly gotten bigger.

And heavier.

Phoenix was grinning insufferably at the two of them.

"Papa! What are you doing here? Daddy said you were super busy!" Trucy continued to chatter excitedly as she inspected him, poking and prodding at his suit.

Edgeworth had forgotten how... energetic children could be.

_Though she's not exactly a child anymore_, Edgeworth noted as he did an inspection of his own, this time from a safe arms-distance.

"Daddy, why didn't you tell me Papa was coming? Did he come to make you feel better?" Trucy let go of him to interrogate her father.

Papa... Yes, that was the name Trucy had given him, though Miles didn't claim any ownership over her. She was Phoenix's daughter. He had adopted her by his choice alone. Miles had been pretty upset when he had first received the call informing him that he now had a child. He may have over reacted just a tad when he had forced Phoenix to keep his name off all the official paperwork, but Phoenix had not been too fair, either. Forcing a kid on someone was not fair. At the time, Miles had consented that he didn't have too much of a right to dictate Phoenix's actions from another country. So, in the end, Phoenix had gotten to keep the child and Miles had reluctantly found himself with a daughter.

Or, at least she saw it that way.

Phoenix frowned at Miles, probably to determine just how angry with him the prosecutor really was; which was a lot. "Actually, I think your Papa came here for the opposite."

Trucy gasped, she wrapped her arms around Edgeworth again, this time his middle. It was an improvement from the vice-grip she had locked around his neck previously. "Papa, don't hurt Daddy! Polly, tell Papa he can't do that!"

"W-What?" Apollo Justice had vacated his seat and appeared to be attempting to slip out the door unnoticed.

Edgeworth didn't blame him.

Trucy was looking expectantly back and forth between Miles and Justice. Finally, Phoenix spoke up, still grinning smugly at Edgeworth like he had won some big bet. Maybe he had, with the way Trucy treated the two of them. To her, they were one big, happy family. Phoenix just loved to rub in how fond Miles had grown of Trucy over the years, and it _had_ taken quite a few years.

Edgeworth was going to knock that stupid beanie off of his cocky head.

"Miles, I don't think I ever introduced you. This is Apollo Justice, the kid I was talking to you about."

Miles nodded; it was hard to do much else with Trucy still clinging to him. His arms were raised around her, hovering hesitantly over her shoulders, but slowly they lowered down. Trucy beamed up at him.

Miles was not very good with physical contact... but it was hard to resist making Trucy happy.

"Mr. Justice, yes, we talked on the phone. I'm Miles Edgeworth. You... may have heard of me."

He was also not good with informal introductions. Give him a murder suspect and some formal arrest procedures any day over these sentimental prefaces. But Wright had expressed how much potential he saw in this kid, so Edgeworth would try his best to make a good impression.

Apollo, who had ceased inching for the exit, stood up straight. "Heard of you? Mr. Edgeworth, you're a legend! Just like Mr. Wright." A bashful look came over the young attorney and he stared at his shoes while carding a hand nervously through his hair. "Not that you're anything like Mr. Wright! You're very... The phone! Yeah... we talked." The poor kid was switching through subjects so fast that Miles almost raised an objection.

Trucy finally let go of Edgeworth's waist. "Wait, so that was Papa on the phone yesterday?"

"What are all of you talking about?" Phoenix asked. He looked upset at being ignored for the moment.

Of course _he_ would be out of the loop.

_Impetuous idiot_, Miles bemoaned.

"Mr. Justice was the one who informed me that you were in the hospital, seeing as you were doing a poor job of it," Miles explained tersely, frowning at Wright. He was still not forgiven.

Phoenix turned on Apollo. "You sold me out? Apollo, how could you?"

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know that-"

"Cut it out, Wright." Edgeworth reprimanded. It was almost painful to listen to this Apollo Justice trip over himself. Phoenix was planning to make a lawyer out of him? Mmph. He'd have to see that to believe it. "Did you honestly think you could have hidden a hospital trip from me for forever?"

Phoenix pulled his beanie down again. "I was going to try."

That stupid hat... Miles sincerely despised it. Sure, Trucy may have made it with her own two hands and it was very well crafted for a beanie, but Phoenix insisted on _always_ wearing it. Probably because the words "Papa" were boldly stitched across the top, Miles deduced. Since he wasn't going to be caught dead in it, no matter how thoughtful the gift was, Phoenix wore it instead.

That hat _and_ those ridiculous sweatpants.

Apparently they were "comfy", but that was really no excuse for neglecting to shave.

...Maybe Miles should come around more often, if not just to keep Phoenix from looking like a bum.

Besides, no one should be able to pull of that look and still be attractive.

…Miles was at least going to force him to shave.

"I would have seen the hospital bill," Miles shot back. His hands were still delicately resting on Trucy's shoulders, even though she had released him. They looked like they were posing for some awkward family photo, but Trucy hadn't stepped away so Miles assumed what he was doing was correct.

Wright paused at Miles' retort. "...I can pay for it."

Miles simply raised an eyebrow at him. Both he and Phoenix knew that wasn't likely to happen. He was about to say something, until a tall glass bottle caught his eye.

"Phoenix…" Miles said, letting go if Trucy and moving to snatch the offending drink off-of all things-a mini pink piano. "How did you manage to sneak this in here? This is a hospital, you know."

"Um..." Wright smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, isn't that your grape juice, Mr. Wright?" Apollo piped up from his position by the door.

"Grape juice?" Miles asked. "You actually believed that?"

"You mean it's not actually-?"

"Of course not! What grown man drinks-"

"Shhh!" Wright silenced the two of them. Miles shot him a look.

Phoenix gestured to Trucy.

Oh. Miles regretted his decision to make a fuss about Phoenix's drinking habit. That wouldn't stop him from bringing it up later, though.

"What about Daddy's grape juice, Papa?" the girl asked, tilting her head to the side as if trying to puzzle it out herself.

"Nothing," Phoenix said. "Your Papa was just playing a joke on Apollo. Right, Miles?" Phoenix was glaring at him seriously, a rare occurrence for the easygoing man. Miles was the one full of glares and anger.

"Yes, of course," Miles agreed, putting the "grape juice" back down on the piano.

"Oh. Did you get it, Polly?"

"Uh," Justice scratched his head uncertainly. Miles shot him a dangerous look, his hands coming back down to rest delicately on Trucy's shoulders. Judging by Justice's quick change in demeanor, Phoenix was probably doing the same from behind them. "Sure, Trucy."

"That's good," Trucy smiled at Apollo, "because sometimes you're a little slow."

"H-Hey!"

"Trucy," Phoenix interjected. "Did you ever find those snacks you were looking for?"

Trucy turned back to her father. "Nope! I heard all that commotion coming from the hall, which I guess was Papa, wasn't it? Anyways, I had to investigate!"

Phoenix nodded. "That's my girl, Trucy." Miles rolled his eyes. Obviously Trucy got her inquisitive nature from him.

_To investigate every suspicious nook and cranny... That's the motto of an Edgeworth!_

"Apollo, why don't you escort my daughter to the closest vending machine?" Phoenix continued.

"Why-?" Apollo started to protest.

"Or, we could have another chat about why you are in possession of my daughter's panties...?"

Apollo crumpled in on himself. "No, sir. Come on, Trucy."

"Okay, Polly!"

"Wait, what about panties?" Miles asked, more than slightly alarmed. He turned to Wright for some assurance.

Phoenix waved him off. "I'll tell you later."

"You most certainly will not. Explain."

"Magic panties, Papa!" Trucy clarified, squirming out Miles' grip that had protectively tightened on her shoulders as this conversation continued. She joined Apollo Justice by the door.

Oh. _Those_.

_Nnnnngh..._

-Hickfield Clinic-

Apollo wished that Trucy would wrap her little reunion up quickly so they could leave. It was one thing to talk to Mr. Wright about his little girl's panties, and if he was scary...

Miles Edgeworth was a force to be reckoned with.

Especially when it was about his apparent friend's daughter's panties.

This was getting confusing. Apollo continued to sweat nervously and inch toward the exit, hoping Trucy would take a hint.

"Hey, Papa...?" Trucy asked before Apollo completely slid out the door. So much for catching on. "Vending machines need money, right?"

"...Yes?" Mr. Edgeworth still looking a little stiff from the panties conversation.

"Do you have any money?" Trucy asked hesitantly. Apollo guessed she wasn't used to asking Mr. Edgeworth for things. This little "family" was really not normal, Apollo realized. And that observation was coming from an orphan...

Mr. Edgeworth spun back around on Mr. Wright while he dug into his pocket. The glare Mr. Wright was receiving conveyed exactly what Mr. Edgeworth thought of his parenting skills.

Wait, if Trucy didn't have any money… that meant Mr. Wright had been planning on...

"You were going to make me pay?" Apollo accused.

"Hey, now Apollo. Let's not be hasty here." Mr. Wright soothed, dismissively sorting through DVD cases and paying neither Mr. Edgeworth nor Apollo any attention.

"Shut up, Phoenix. Here, Trucy." Mr. Edgeworth had procured a handful of objects from his pocket. Apollo watched as he picked aside some spare change that was obviously not American and his prosecutors badge in one hand, folding crumpled dollar bills in the other. Something gold and shiny quickly disappeared back into Mr. Edgeworth's pocket, but Apollo couldn't tell what it was before it was gone. Edgeworth shot Mr. Wright a pretty fugitive look when he hid it away, though, which was why it caught Apollo's attention. Finally, Mr. Edgeworth held out a hand with a roll of a few measly dollars in it. Apollo could have sworn a few of them were German for some reason, but Trucy snatched them up gratefully before he got a chance get a good look.

_Are all prosecutors from Germany?! _Apollo was seriously starting to wonder.

"Thanks, Papa!" She kissed him on the cheek before darting excitedly out the door, leaving a bewildered Apollo in her wake. He was only too glad to follow.

Finally out in the hall, Apollo let out a deep breath that he'd been holding for who knows how long. Probably since Mr. Edgeworth first burst in. That had been... uncomfortable. Apollo wanted nothing more than to stay away from that room for as long as possible, and a little detour to a vending machine probably wasn't going to take long enough. Trucy decided it was best to avoid another wild goose chase for a few snacks like her last adventure and looked around for someone to ask for help. After talking to a nurse, Trucy and Apollo were given directions to the nearest vending machine. Trucy was doubly excited now because the nurse had told them that it had both snacks and drinks.

Unfortunately, it was also in the hospital lobby, so they would have to sign out before they reached it, as the nurse profusely reminded them.

Apollo found his name on the sheet, only Trucy and Mr. Edgeworth underneath it. He remembered that he had been a little stumped when he came in. In addition to his name, he had been expected to state his relation to the patient.

After a while he'd just scribbled down "associate". Good enough.

Apollo moved the pen to the next column over and signed himself out, but before he handed the pen off to Trucy, something caught his eye. Trucy, of course, had identified herself as "DAUGHTER!" and had drawn a little heart next to it. But Mr. Edgeworth had... Well... Now Apollo finally understood what was going on.

Under "Relation to Patient" Mr. Edgeworth had neatly printed "Husband".

Oh. Well, then. That... explained a lot. Apollo was going to avoid that hospital room for as long as possible. There was no telling what the two men would be doing now that they had a little privacy.

_Stop it, Justice_. He really didn't want to think about that.

"Polly?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"I'm gonna buy Daddy some more grape juice! That'll help him get better."

"...You do that."

**A/N: So, for anyone who's played the demo/seen the opening animation: What do you think of Phoenix's snazzy new voice? I thought they made him sound way too young at first, but I'm warming up to it. Slowly. And I actually like Athena, which surprised me. All I have to say is that Edgeworth better sound perfect and Klavier better have an accent or I will be very upset.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N This will be the last full chapter, though I plan to finish the story with a small epilogue.**

-Hickfield Clinic-

Edgeworth had been caught off-guard by Trucy's unabashed display of affection. After she disappeared nimbly out the door with that Apollo kid trailing behind, Miles crossed his arms protectively over his chest and stared at the empty spot she had occupied. His face was quickly heating up.

He could feel Phoenix's unbearably smug grin beaming on him from over his hunched shoulders.

"You don't look like that when I kiss you," Phoenix quipped.

"Wright..."

Phoenix broke into laughter. Miles stiffly turned around to glare at him. The ex-attorney was still lounging back in his hospital bed, hands buried in his jacket pockets. Turning to face him only served to make Phoenix laugh harder. Miles sighed, unfurling himself.

He never could stay mad at him for too long, anyways.

"Remind me why I married you again?" He moved to take one of the chairs set up for the visitors that Justice had been previously occupying. It was only logical to make himself more comfortable now that they were alone.

Phoenix calmed his laughter enough to hold a cocky smirk.

"Because I'm so pretty."

Phoenix dissolved into snickering again. Miles rolled his eyes, dragging the chair to rest beside Phoenix's bed.

Phoenix was laughing so hard this time that he withdrew one hand from his pocket to cover his face in an attempt to quell his fit. Once he had, a pained look dawned on his face and he sobered up instantly. Miles reached for him, worried, though he wasn't exactly sure where to grab. He had completely forgotten that the idiot was injured.

"Phoenix, what did you do?" It was more of a command than a question.

Phoenix groaned and shifted in the bed, presumably to find a more comfortable position. "There was a car. I got hit."

"I figured out that much," Miles said. Phoenix was going to confess. Now.

Phoenix shrugged, his usual relaxed behavior returning. "I'm fine, really. The pole broke my fall. Well, really my head did, but the pole helped."

"WHAAAT!?" Miles stood up. Phoenix got rammed by a car and flew into pole? Head first?

How was that even possible?

Then again, this was Phoenix Wright they were talking about. If he could survive plummeting forty feet off a burning bridge onto a frozen ravine and walk away, a hit and run was probably nothing. But still, just how badly was he hurt? Were there bandages hidden underneath that beanie? Nothing looked swollen... He was still breathing, obviously, but that did nothing to subdue the wave of fear that crashed into Miles as his mind spiraled through all the possible injuries Wright could have suffered.

"Calm down, Miles." Phoenix reached up and took the prosecutor's hand with the one free from his jacket, which looked rather difficult from his position on the bed. It was warm and strong and _not_ broken. "I just twisted my ankle."

Miles felt a numbness creep over him. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved, frustrated, or impressed, and all three was at once was giving him an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. Heavily, he sank back down into his chair, hand going limp in Phoenix's grip.

"You could have said so sooner," he said breathlessly.

"Yeah," Phoenix was smirking again. He had obviously planned to leave Miles in the dark about the extent of his injuries. Jerk. "I could have."

_Not funny, Phoenix._

Miles didn't have the energy to work up a decent glare. He did, however, manage to lift his head up. "And you still don't think you should have called me?"

Phoenix grimaced. "I'm the one who's supposed to do all the worrying." He gave Miles' hand a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, you had a case."

So that was what this was all about? Miles doubted it. He shook his head. "That's not important."

Phoenix grinned. He was up to something, again. "So I'm important?"

Edgeworth could tell that he was fishing for compliments, but Miles returned the pressure on Phoenix's hand anyways. This was serious. Phoenix could have been honestly hurt. Or worse. Miles thought that Phoenix of all people would understand how terrifying a thought that was to him, given all the people the other man had lost over the years.

"Yes," Miles said steadily. "You are. So I'd appreciate being informed in the future. You're not alone here, Phoenix."

Phoenix clicked his tongue and tried to pull his hand away, likely preparing to change the topic, but Miles held fast. "Miles..."

"I'm serious, Phoenix. Ever since you lost your badge, you think you have to do everything on your own." Miles looked down at their hands, unable to continue eye contact with Phoenix as the conversation grew heavier. His was pale and cold, where Phoenix's was warm and tan. Both were bare. He laced their fingers together. "You don't."

This time, Phoenix sighed. He pulled his other hand, his left, out of his pocket with some difficulty. On it was a soft gold band, worn from years of wear. Phoenix covered their laced hands with his ringed one, the precious metal surprisingly warm from being in his pocket. Miles shifted in surprise. So he did wear it when the prosecutor wasn't around. The one in Miles' pocket was something he was suddenly too aware of.

He felt a little guilty.

Neither of them looked up from their clasped hands for a while. They sat quietly together. Miles was too touched to say anything and he supposed Phoenix was tired of staring at his bowed head.

"I knew you would come running back here if I told you, so I just didn't, okay?" Phoenix said finally. It was a fair point, because it was exactly what had happened when Miles had found out. "Let's just drop it, please? You're already here so there's no use fighting over it."

Miles tightened his grip on Phoenix's hand. He didn't want to keep lecturing Phoenix, but he wanted to make sure that they wouldn't be in this situation again. Ever. Especially because next time could be a lot worse.

"All right," Miles started, being the first to look up. Phoenix was using his left hand to draw nervous circles on the back of Miles' own, likely waiting for this conversation to be over. It was turning into something agonizing for the both of them. "As long as you promise to inform me next time any rogue cars jump you, hm? I won't have to come all the way over here if I know you're still breathing."

Phoenix laid his hand flat again. "Okay," he agreed, turning his head up to smile tentatively at Miles.

Miles felt himself relax now that that was settled and Phoenix was smiling again. Any other expression just didn't look right on his face. Well, maybe panic did, but only in the courtroom. And those days were over, anyways. Now that all his anger and worry had been relieved, Miles felt his long trip and sleepless night starting to catch up to him.

"Good. We can finally have some time to ourselves." To punctuate that he didn't mean it in any suggestive way, he leaned back tiredly against his chair. Phoenix winked at him nevertheless. Miles figured that rolling his eyes would be a wasted effort. "You know what I mean."

"Unfortunately," Phoenix pretended to be disappointed. "But I suppose you actually being here for once is good enough."

That was... a low blow. But Phoenix wasn't going to gain anything from it. This was a hospital, for crying out loud!

"You look tired," Phoenix continued after it became apparent to him that Miles wasn't biting. "Long trip?"

Miles scrubbed his face with his free hand. "Too long," he agreed. "All turn overs and delays. You're lucky you weren't answering your phone or I might have snapped on you."

"Hmm... Well, you need to catch up on your sleep. You're already falling behind in your duties, but your health? Can't have that." Phoenix scooted over in his bed, taking one hand off the pile and gesturing to the space he had made.

"Absolutely not," Miles said. Oh, it was tempting, but-as Phoenix seemed to keep forgetting-hospitals were public building.

Phoenix gave their intertwined fingers a tug. "Come on, Miles. You're exhausted."

"Not on your life. I know what you want and it's not going to happen."

"I promise not to do anything." Phoenix continued pulling. "You look like crap, anyways."

"You're too kind." Miles knew that Phoenix would take this as consent. He had practically pulled the prosecutor out of his chair already, so there was really no point in resisting. And the offer was very appealing.

"Hold on a minute," Miles said, standing the rest of the way out of the chair. He detached his hand from Phoenix's and removed his jacket, slinging it as neatly as he could across the back of the chair. There weren't any hangers in sight, nor any places to hang them if there had been. Next, he worked on unbuttoning his waistcoat. If he was going to do this he was at least going to get comfortable first. Phoenix tried to sit up and help him with the buttons, but Miles pushed the other man away when Phoenix paled at having jostled his ankle again. Idiot.

After kicking off his shoes, Miles climbed into the bed beside Phoenix. Before he was fully settled, two hands suddenly came up and grabbed Miles' face, making it impossible to recoil when Phoenix pulled him down and planted a kiss on his lips.

"You said you wouldn't do anything." Miles reprimanded, precariously balanced in Phoenix's lap.

Phoenix shrugged from under him. "Hey, my daughter already stole your first 'welcome home' kiss. I just wanted my share."

Miles shook his head. Phoenix still had that stupid hat on. He pulled it off before Phoenix could protest.

Phoenix made a grab for it. "Hey-"

"I like your hair better like this," Miles said. He tossed the beanie aside onto one of the side tables, mindful of the DVDs still towering on it.

Phoenix ran a hand through his revealed spikes. They were droopy from being compressed under that hat all day, but Miles didn't doubt that they would perk back up given enough time. Without the beanie, Miles could also fully see Phoenix's forehead and eyebrows. He looked more... complete without it.

Miles realized he was smiling wistfully at Phoenix.

"I have hat hair, don't I?" Phoenix ducked his head.

"A little," Miles consented, taking a chance to play with Phoenix's hair himself, trying to put the spikes back into place. "But I apparently 'look like crap', so-"

Phoenix kissed his again. Nothing was holding Miles this time, but he gave in anyways. Phoenix's kisses were warm and soft and a little desperate after their time apart, which was always too long.

Phoenix tugged on his cravat. "Are you going to keep this on?"

"Don't want you getting any ideas." This time, Miles pulled Phoenix back into the kiss, fingers still playing with his disheveled hair.

Miles pulled away before letting it get too passionate. The last thing they needed was for Trucy and Apollo to come bouncing back in to find them making out like teenagers. Not that that particular activity wouldn't happen later, but for now Miles was still exhausted and in desperate need of some sleep. It was a small bed, so Miles almost fell off the side as soon as he tried to get comfortable. Phoenix caught him and rolled the other man onto himself, letting out a pained hiss when Miles' foot knocked into his injured ankled.

"Sorry."

"You're fine," Phoenix reassured, though his voice was a strained. "Get some sleep."

They finally settled with Miles lying mostly on top of Phoenix, head resting on his chest. Phoenix started stroking lazy patterns on Miles' back. He sighed contentedly in response.

"How long are you staying?" Phoenix asked, his chin coming to rest on Miles' head.

"Sunday," Miles answered shortly, his eyelids already getting heavy. Phoenix was close and firm and smelt like laundry detergent, since he could never convince the man to invest in cologne.

It was all that Miles wanted.

"But it's only Tuesday." Miles felt Phoenix sit up a little confusion. "You're taking the whole week?"

Miles wished Phoenix would stop asking questions and just let him rest. "I think I've earned enough vacation time. The office owes me." Hearing that Phoenix was in the hospital had scared Miles, so he had jumped the gun with taking time off. And just maybe he had missed Phoenix a little too much and was going to use this incident to his advantage. Maybe.

Miles felt Phoenix nod, seemingly storing the information away. He continued to rub circles on Miles's back. They stayed like this for a while, Phoenix occasionally moving his hand from Mile's back to run through his hair. Miles had definitely been gone too long if he was actually enjoying all this attention, but he also figured that Phoenix must have missed him as well if he was content just lying together like this. He was just drifting off when Phoenix spoke again.

"Hey, Miles?" The stroking stopped.

"Mmmmm...?" Barely aware of what Phoenix was asking.

"What's in your pocket? It's killing my leg." Phoenix shifted underneath him as if to emphasize his point.

Miles was a little more awake now. "Take it out," he ordered, not appreciating being disturbed.

Miles felt Phoenix's hand slid down to his waist. He lifted himself up just enough so that Phoenix could slip the hand inside his pocket. Phoenix withdrew a moment later.

"Better?" Miles murmured after settling back down onto Phoenix's chest.

"Yeah," Phoenix replied vaguely. Miles was awake again because of all the moving around. Awake and sensitive to Phoenix's change in tone, an ability he had acquired from their long time apart with only phone calls for communication.

"What was it?" he asked. He was still tired from the trip and he did want to get some sleep, but not quite yet.

He got no reply.

"Phoenix?" Miles opened his eyes when he got no answer still. He rolled his head on Phoenix's chest until he could see the other man's face. Phoenix had one cupped hand drawn close, his thumb fiddling with whatever was being held in his palm. When he realized Miles was watching him, Phoenix snapped his hand closed.

"...Nothing. Spare change."

"Oh. Keep it." This conversation was going nowhere. Phoenix could probably use some money, though. Miles made himself a mental note to sneak some into Phoenix's wallet before he left. He felt Phoenix slip the change into his jacket pocket. Afterwards, Miles let his hand drift over until he found Phoenix's. He drew it to himself and tried to get comfortable again.

"...Phoenix?"

"Yeah, Miles?"

Miles laced their fingers together from where he was holding them against his chest, his fingers fitting around the warm metal of Phoenix's ring.

He let his eyes drift closed again. "Let's not have any more run-ins like this in the future."

"Eh." One arm wrapped around Miles as Phoenix rested his cheek in Mile's hair. "You should have seen the other guy."

"The other guy was a car, Phoenix."

"Yep." Miles wondered if that beanie was cutting off the blood supply to Phoenix's brain.

Sometime before he fell asleep, Miles thought that he heard the opening theme of the Steel Samurai start playing.

**-Hickfield Clinic-**

Miles was a goner. Phoenix could tell because the other man's tight grip on his fingers had loosened considerably. Not discounting that Miles didn't even stir when he resumed play of the Steel Samurai, and it had taken some tricky maneuvering to get the next disk in without disturbing him. Gently, Phoenix removed his hand from between his and Miles' chests.

Miles remained breathing quietly.

_Yep, he's out cold.  
_  
The blood started rushing back to Phoenix's hand. He shook it to speed up the process, not enjoying the pins-and-needles sensation.

_Jeez, Miles. You need to loosen up._

His work must have been running him pretty hard. Phoenix hadn't seen him in months with all the back to back cases Miles had been taking on, always on the brink of cracking something big. Phoenix was used to the excuses. But if Miles wanted to sleep through his whole visit, Phoenix was okay with that. Just being able to assure himself that the prosecutor was getting any rest at all was enough to make Phoenix happy. Miles would run himself into the ground left alone, so Phoenix vowed to help him take a load off as long as he was here.

Phoenix continued to play with Miles' hair and stare blankly at the television. He wasn't really watching it, since he had accidentally popped in the wrong disk and didn't have heart to try to fix it since it would risk waking Miles. Phoenix contented himself with the knowledge that Miles was near and safe and not seemingly forever and a day away. The current distance between them was much better, in Phoenix's opinion. On the side table still sat his beanie. With Miles completely vulnerable, Phoenix saw an opportunity he couldn't pass up. He snagged the hat once feeling returned to his hand, carefully so as not to alert the unsuspecting prosecutor.

**-Hickfield Clinic-**

"Polly, it won't take it!" Trucy said in exasperation as she tried to shove yet another crumpled bill into the vending machine. It sucked the money out of her hand, only to spit it back a moment later.

"That was the last one, wasn't it?" They had been standing here for the better of five minutes going through every dollar. Every dollar that wasn't German, that was, and Apollo doubted those would be of much help.

"Yep." Trucy took the rejected dollar from the machine and held it out to Apollo dejectedly. The pile of failures that he was holding had grown sadly large in his hand. "What do we do?"

Apollo took the last dollar from Trucy. Honestly, at this point he would have just given up, but Trucy had been so excited.

And he feared what Miles Edgeworth would do to him if they returned empty-handed.

_Think, Justice. Perceive_.

Apollo pocketed the useless bills and scanned the lobby. If only they could find some quarters. Coins couldn't be bent out of shape. Well, usually. Apollo wasn't going to put it past Trucy to try of they found any, knowing her ability to turn anything into a magic trick. The lobby was quiet except for a nurse at the admission desk stamping some files.

That would do.

"Hey,Trucy? Let's go see if that nurse has any change on her." Apollo suggested, starting off in her direction. Trucy made a sound of agreement and followed behind.

They reached the desk and, though the nurse was not too happy at being disrupted from her work, she was able to give them a handful of quarters in exchange for some of the dollars. To be completely honest, she was probably just so unfriendly because Apollo had accidentally handed her one of the German bills first. Oops. Apollo gave the change to Trucy when they got back to the vending machine and she started counting it.

"Hey, Polly? You know, there are lots of tricks I can do with these."

_I knew it..._

"Do any of them involve the quarters disappearing? Because we kind of need them," Apollo said.

"Oh, right," Trucy looked disappointed. Then, she suddenly perked up and picked up one quarter. She held it between two fingers. "But I can also bend-"

"We also need the unbent!" Apollo interrupted.

"Fine. Hey, Polly? Anyone ever tell you that you're a spoil-sport?"

_Thanks, you're too kind._

"Let's just get your juice…" Apollo said, deflated.

The quarters worked much better than then the dollars had, since the machine actually recognized them. Soon the pair was walking back to Mr. Wright's hospital room, Trucy precariously balancing several boxes of grape juice and a bag of Snackoos.

"Why did we buy those again?" Apollo asked, pointing to the offending snack. He really didn't want to remember being pelted with them by a certain detective.

_I hope Trucy isn't planning to take any pages out of her book..._

"I wanted to try them," Trucy said. "That detective lady looked like she was really enjoying them so..."

Apollo nodded. At least she wasn't going to start throwing start throwing them at people.

When they reached Mr. Wright's room for the second time that day, Apollo hesitated before opening the door. Had they been gone long enough to give Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Wright some privacy? The whole vending machine ordeal had taken longer than he had anticipated, but still. Apollo could hear voices faintly coming from the other side of the door. Maybe if he just told Trucy he had to go to the bathroom or something...

"Hey, Trucy...?"

Trucy made up the decision to open the door for him, seemingly having no inhibitions about intruding on the two men. She stacked the bag of Snackoos in her one hand on top of the grape juice boxes in the other and made a grab for the door handle before the whole pile toppled over. Then, she gave him a push.

Stepping just inside the door, Apollo froze. He should not be in here. Mr. Wright was still in his bed, but now Mr Edgeworth had joined him. The two men were... were... cuddling!

Apollo ducked and threw his arms defensively over his head, expecting to be accosted by all sorts of jibes from Mr. Wright for catching him like this. Silence. That wasn't a good sign. Or was it? Apollo peaked out from behind his defenses to discover that Mr. Wright was... completely asleep.

And snoring. With his mouth open.

_Okay_...

Less terrified now, Apollo was able to take in more of the situation. Mr. Wright was out cold. The television was playing more of that kid's show from earlier, and it looked in the middle of an episode. Some funny-looking samurais in masks were yelling at each other. That would account for the voices he had heard. Mr. Edgeworth was also asleep, on top of Mr. Wright. Apollo didn't let his mind dwell on that fact for too long. His face was already red enough. Some of Mr. Edgeworth's clothes were slung on the back of a chair. In all, Apollo felt like he had just walked into something dirty.

On the other hand, Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Wright didn't appear to have been doing anything bad, despite the number of layers Mr. Edgeworth had lost. Even Mr. Wright no longer had his beanie, much to Apollo's surprise, but Mr. Edgeworth just seemed too stuffy to ever loosen up. Or at least to loosen up around company, as he appeared to be plenty comfortable around Mr. Wright. It suddenly struck Apollo how strange the two men looked together. Mr. Edgeworth in his cravat and shirt entangled with Mr. Wright in his jacket and sweatpants. They made an... odd pair.

There was one piece tying to duo together, though. On Mr. Edgeworth's head was Mr. Wright's beanie. It looked funny paired with his whole formal ensemble, squashed over his neat hair. It wasn't even really on his head, just kind of sitting on top of it.

Apollo heard Trucy shuffling behind him. He turned around to look at her. She was smiling gently at the two men on the bed. She almost had a matronly look in her eye, like she had been planning this all along.

Sometimes Trucy looked too mature for her age.

"Come on, Polly. Let's go eat these in the lobby."

Apollo backed out of the room and shut the door as quietly as he could behind him.


	5. Epilogue

**A/N: I swear that in my mind this epilogue was only going to be about 500 words. ...Oops? But hey, it's still out before Dual Destinies.**

**Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Hopefully after I exhaust the new game I'll be prepared to write something new!**

**-LAX-**

Phoenix hated goodbyes. Especially goodbyes with Miles. The prosecutor wasn't the type for them; they weren't written into his code. For years, he had booked his flights early and slipped out the door without telling a soul. Phoenix hated that, waking up to a cold, empty space where Miles should be. It was a harsh reminder that they inevitably had to return to their separate lives, but it was just Miles' way. He showed up without warning and disappeared just as spontaneously. It had taken him forever to convince Miles that, this time, Phoenix was going to follow him all the way to the airport. It hurt having him leave so suddenly but, even though this time was going to be different, Phoenix could never shake the sadness that soured the event at the fact that they would be parting ways soon. Maybe for a long time. Phoenix got that this was probably why Miles always tried to avoid goodbyes. They sucked.

On the other hand, the week that they had gotten spend together had been close to great. Phoenix had been released from the hospital before the last day of Apollo's trial. His ankle had felt much better, although it was still a little sore. Miles had insisted he do a minimal amount of walking and so - though it was a little over-kill in his opinion - Phoenix spent most of the week spread out on the couches at the Agency. He wasn't too hesitant about raising his complaints over it, either. If he was going to suffer doting from Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, than the other man was going to suffer along with him.

In the end, the two of them had spent most of their days snuggled together on one of the couches marathoning the Steel Samurai like Phoenix had promised. Phoenix was so comfortable just laying around with Miles that after they ran out of episodes he decided to pop in the Pink Princess instead of get up. Trucy joined them every once in a while when she wasn't running around with Apollo or preforming at the bar (something Miles heavily disapproved of). She had even expressed concern over the fact that Miles hadn't worn proper clothes in three days, buried under blankets in his silky pink pajamas, worried that her Papa was going to become as lazy as her Daddy. Lazy or not, Phoenix would have been okay with a little more action during their rare time alone, but it was a nice change just having Miles close enough to hold.

They had worked their way through most of the Nickel Samurai before time ran out.

As it was, Miles had driven the three of them to the airport in his shoddy rental car, cursing out the engineering the whole way. Trucy was more than happy to tag along, wanting to see her Papa off. She hadn't complained at getting up early and jumped excitedly into the back of the rental van. Miles had promised to take her driving if she had her permit the next time he visited.

"I don't need to drive, Papa," Trucy had said from the back seat. "I'm not a prosecutor."

"What?" Miles had asked, glancing back at her in the mirror. Phoenix had turned around to see her in the seat behind him.

This had to be good.

"Well, Papa, you're a prosecutor and you drive. And Prosecutor Gavin drives," she had tapped her chin with a few fingers while she reasoned. Phoenix hadn't been so convinced that he considered what Klavier did to be 'driving' with the way the prosecutor sped about on that motorcycle, but he had let Trucy finish. "But Daddy and Apollo don't drive. So if I'm not a prosecutor, than I don't need to drive, right?" She had seemed pretty pleased with her logic.

"Trucy..." Miles had started, shooting Phoenix a concerned look. It had hardened rather quickly. "You explain, Phoenix."

"Trucy," Phoenix had said. "You're absolutely right."

"Phoenix!"

Phoenix had shrugged at the exasperated prosecutor. He supposed he'd have to call a taxi to get them home.

Now, they were at the security gate. The worst part was yet to come. Phoenix stood with Trucy, looking around the busy area. Numerous signs around the checkpoint constantly reminded that no one without a boarding pass was allowed past this point. As if Phoenix could forget. He'd been through this too many times.

Miles was standing with his arms crossed and back turned to Trucy and her father, squinting at the flight charts. Phoenix could just barely make out his familiar figure with the influx of travelers all pushing past one another. Usually he would have a briefcase or some small carry-on, but Phoenix figured that he must not have had the time to pack anything extra with how quickly he had arrived in the States.

"Miles, just admit it," Phoenix forged his way through the crowd, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder when he reached him. "You need glasses." Phoenix wanted to lighten the mood. He also didn't want to look at the chart himself.

His heart seemed to know exactly how much time was left before Edgeworth's departure.

"I do not!" Miles protested, shrugging Phoenix's hand off. "I can see perfectly fine."

Phoenix rolled his eyes. He pointed at the flight chart. "Oh yeah? Tell me what time your flight is arriving." He had to raise his voice to be heard over the people gathered under the chart, clutching their boarding passes and trying to find their flights on the board of numbers.

Phoenix had memorized Miles' flight numbers all the way to Germany.

Miles huffed as if Phoenix had asked him to count to ten. "It's..." Miles leaned forward. Phoenix couldn't see from his position behind the prosecutor, but he guessed that Miles was squinting harder. "It's... Why do they write it so small!"

"Daddy?" Trucy appeared from the crowd, joining them. "Is Papa going blind?"

"I'm afraid so, Trucy," Phoenix responded, shaking his head.

"Oh, Papa..."

"I am not!" Miles protested, turning around to fix the two of them with a good, penetrating look.

Phoenix smirked at him. Miles sighed in frustration and adjusted his clothing. He pulled out his phone and checked the display.

"Either way, unless my flight is going to be exceptionally delayed, it's about an hour until I need to start going through security." Miles shut his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Let's get away from here, there are too many people."

Surrounding the entrance to the security gates were shops and food courts. Miles led them towards the shops, holding Trucy's hand the whole way and insisting she not get lost. Phoenix was going to remind Miles of how old Trucy was, but she didn't seem to mind and Phoenix was enjoying watching the two of them bump around among the crowds. He kept his hands in his jacket pockets, though at one point Trucy looped her free hand around his arm and oddly linked the three of them in a chain.

Miles led the way out of the crowd and into a slightly less packed coffee shop. It was early, but it wasn't so early that the commuters were getting their first cup. Trucy dragged Edgeworth to a round table by the window while Phoenix got in line. She sat as close to her Papa as possible. If she moved over any more Phoenix thought she might fall out of her chair. Ordering was simple: tea for Miles (Phoenix knew how he liked it), coffee for himself (the whole incident with Godot all those years ago somehow hadn't scarred him, or maybe it was just the need for caffeine that kept him drinking it), and hot chocolate for Trucy. Phoenix returned quickly with their drinks and sat down on Mile's other side.

The coffee shop was quieter, so hearing each other wouldn't be a problem. But even so, not one of them made much of an effort to start a conversation. Miles thanked Phoenix for his drink before they all lapsed onto silence again. All in all, Phoenix found that his own mood to be in the pits. The inevitable reason why they were all here was starting to loom, and even Trucy's usual good mood was starting to be effected. Though maybe that was just the drinks. There was something to be said for airport food, Phoenix mused. It was a special kind of terrible.

That wasn't to say that Phoenix wasn't enjoying the grimace Edgeworth made every time he took another sip, probably just to put something in his system that would keep him awake through his first flight. Phoenix knew that Miles wasn't one for sleeping on planes, in case he encountered any turbulence. Phoenix didn't particularly want to dwell on the thought of Miles suddenly waking up ten thousand feet in the air thinking he was in the middle of an earthquake. He brushed this thought away by continuing to watch Miles attempt to down his crappy tea. It wasn't fair how someone could make that face and still look like they belonged on the cover of a magazine, and Phoenix was going to enjoy every minute of it that he had left.

It wouldn't be long before Miles was gone again.

After finishing their less-than-satisfactory drinks, they wandered back out into the crowd, Trucy again joining their hands. Phoenix wasn't surprised when she suddenly pulled them in one direction and into a book store. He let her navigate through the aisles by herself, pulling out different books on magic and then putting them back after a few pages. Looking around, Phoenix found that Miles had rooted himself in a relatively empty section of the store, anxiously following Trucy with his eyes as if she would be swallowed up if he blinked. Phoenix got a little closer and, with great restraint, chose to pretend to watch Trucy too instead of mentioning the particular section Miles had decided to stand in to the prosecutor. It paid off, as several middle-aged woman crossed in front of Miles, at first upset that the adult section was being blocked, but their facial expressions quickly changed as they prepared to confront the handsome, constipated-looking man doing the blocking. In the end, they all failed to approach him, preferring to detour to the shelves nearby and pretend that they weren't checking Miles out.

Phoenix had to bite his cheek. Miles probably looked like every male protagonist in the books they were after: well dressed and with a pretty face. With the way he was watching Trucy like a fretful parent, the whole scene looked like soap opera waiting to happen. Phoenix allowed himself to chuckle. Miles, of course, was completely oblivious to the curious eyes of the ladies. But that was Miles for you. Phoenix wondered how many times Miles had been shamelessly flirted with and not responded in any way. He had seen it happen plenty of time himself and he'd gotten some good stories out of Detective Gumshoe. Prosecutor Edgeworth was like a robot when it came to women. Or really anyone daring enough to try to catch his eye, but it was always the girls that trailed after Miles like he was as famous as Klavier Gavin. Even Maya had expressed how pretty she thought he was back in the early days, and he had been trying to convict her for murder.

_I guess that makes me special_, Phoenix thought, his ring hand in his pocket absently starting to play with the metal band on his finger. It was true, out of all the people who admired Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix had ultimately won. He was the only one who had even been given a chance. He, of course, had admired Miles most of all: intellectually, as an opponent, and, most importantly, as the person he was underneath that thick skin of his. Miles Edgeworth was far more than a pretty face. Phoenix's chest swelled with emotion as he recalled all the trouble he'd had to go through to prove it to the man himself. He had been determined to make Miles realize how great he was and in the process Miles had, for some strange reason, found something in Phoenix.

Miles was a very private man and he might not be the type for "I love you" and "goodbye", but he had picked Phoenix. Somehow, that said it all in a very Miles Edgeworth manor.

One of the women had wandered over to the shelf that Phoenix was not even pretending to browse anymore. During his thoughts, Phoenix had stopped looking around and instead had just ended up staring at Miles. Oh well. Miles was nice to look at.

"Excuse me honey," the woman spoke softly, coming closer to Phoenix's section of the rack. Phoenix made to move over, but she held up a hand to stop him. She glanced fleetingly at Miles before returning his very confused gaze. Wait, was she going go ask him to confront Miles and make him move? Ha. That would be good.

"Are you looking at that man over there?" She nodded her head in Miles' general direction, obviously trying (and failing) to be discrete.

"Uh..." What kind of a question was that? And what was he supposed to say?

_Yes, ma'am. I _am_ checking out my damn fine husband._

"I'm sorry," the woman continued, shaking her head. "But I just don't think you have a chance. You're not his type, if you know what I mean." She was staring disdainfully at something over his head, which Phoenix assumed was his beanie. Rude.

Maybe this lady was related to Oldbag.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Phoenix shrugged, his hands still resting nonchalantly in his pockets. An idea was coming to him. "But at least I can get him to move over for you."

The woman was opened her mouth to say something else, the expression on her face telling Phoenix that is was likely a protest, but Phoenix headed over to Miles before she could try and stop him. The focused prosecutor didn't even notice him as he continued to stiffly follow Trucy with his eyes. Phoenix reached out and took his hand.

"Hey, let's get out of here."

Miles reached into his pocket checked his phone, presumably for the time. "Yes, we should go..." Louder he called, "Trucy!" She looked up from the book she was currently browsing, something about magic wands. Miles pointed to the front of the store, which she promptly headed to after putting the book back on a shelf that it probably didn't come from. Oh well.

Miles didn't pull his hand out of Phoenix's as they made their way to follow her. Phoenix didn't look back, but he was sure that if he had there would have been several gawking women watching their departure in disbelief.

Yep. Phoenix was definitely the lucky one.

**-LAX-**

"Hey, Miles! Aren't you forgetting something?"

Miles turned around. Phoenix was standing at the edge of the crowd where he had left him to get in line for security. Trucy had been there too, but she was gone now. Phoenix was waving him back over.

Goodbyes had been quick. Trucy had hugged him and he had given Wright a good nod. It was quick and sufficient, the way Miles liked it. But now this...

_What do you want? I already told you I'm not going to kiss you here...Idiot._

Phoenix was still waving to him. Maybe he was just trying to delay the inevitable. Miles fought through the crowd to reach the raggedy-looking man again, as Phoenix had refused to put on anything nicer than his jacket and sweatpants. Maybe for the better, as a small circle had formed around Phoenix in the flow of people which made it easier for Miles to cut through, probably because the travelers didn't want to get too close to Phoenix in his shady outfit. If it were anyone else in that get up, Miles would have avoided them, too. When he finally did reach the man in question, Phoenix had one of his famous smirks on his face.

_Oh great. What do you want from me?_ Miles thought dolefully.

"What are you talking about?" he said out loud. "Maybe _you've_ forgotten that I have a flight to catch."

Phoenix shook his head. He pulled his other hand out of his pocket, the hand that hadn't been waving, and held up a gold ring. "How about this?"

Miles's eyes widened. Instinctively, one hand reached into his pocket and, sure enough, no ring was to be found. "When did you...?"

Phoenix shrugged, still holding the ring up. He twirled it between his thumb and index finger. "Back at the hospital."

So it hadn't been loose change that he was after. Sneaky bastard.

"Why-?"

"Just curious to see if you would miss it." Phoenix was still smiling, though Miles couldn't fathom as to why. He'd almost left without his wedding band. The guilt was mortifying.

Although, Miles hadn't exactly been wearing proper clothes for the last few days, either. So not noticing it was gone from his pocket was almost understandable?

_That's still no excuse._

"Well, I've noticed." Miles said tautly. He was so embarrassed that he almost wanted to forget about getting the ring back and jump on his flight instead. The faster he was hundreds of miles away from here, the better. "May I have it back, now?"

"I've been waiting for you to say that," Phoenix's smirk expanded into a genuine, toothy Phoenix-grin. It was really the only way for Miles to explain it.

...Miles was going to miss that stupid, happy look on his face.

When Miles reached to for the ring, Phoenix grabbed his hand and turned it over. Miles tried to pull away and just take it, but Phoenix held tight. He spread Miles fingers and slipped the ring into place on his hand.

"There. Now you won't lose it." Phoenix turned his head up to smile winningly at him.

"I wouldn't have lost it in the first place if you hadn't stolen it." Miles tried to sound angry, but Phoenix still had Miles' hand held captive in his warm grip. Miles didn't particularly want to let go.

Why did Phoenix have to call him back? He had almost been gone; the pain of their goodbyes had almost been over with. Miles hated leaving Phoenix and with every time he always found another reason why, this time, he should stay.

But there were always a million more reasons to leave piling up on his desk back in Germany.

"Are you going to let go?" Miles said after a long moment, although it came out more breathy than he had been trying for.

Phoenix finally frowned. It didn't make Miles feel any better, but it was more natural for the situation. Phoenix took a while to answer him, probably stalling for time. He looked down at their hands, and Miles followed his gaze. Both had rings on them this time, two simple gold bands with scratches and worn spots, in need of a good shine. It said something about them, Miles thought. They might not take the best care of their relationship but, with a little polishing, things always fell right back into place.

Eventually, Phoenix looked up and waited for Miles to return his gaze before answering. He had a serious composure, and it was almost frightening to Miles how intense his eyes were. Miles expected to get some deep answer, like "never" or "if only I could", but instead Phoenix's stare broke into a coy grin.

"Only if you say you'll miss me."

Miles almost smacked him. "The only thing I'm going to be missing is my flight."

Suddenly, Phoenix tugged Miles' hand down and used the distance that closed between them to pull Miles in for a kiss. It was hard, smashing their lips together. Miles closed his eyes and gave in. He didn't like to display affection in public, as he considered affections to be a private matter, but heavens knew when he was going to see Phoenix again. Screw it all, just this once. When he opened his eyes, Phoenix was gone. Miles couldn't even make out his retreating form in the flow of people. He had taken his warmth with him and Miles' hand hung cold and empty where he hand been holding to Phoenix's. His ring, however, still held a little of the heat from Phoenix's pocket and so Miles left it on his finger all through security and passed the flight gate until even that reminder of Phoenix's warmth was gone.

It wasn't until his third flight that Miles pulled the ring back out of his pocket, too numb from the cliché sadness of leaving his lover behind to even think about working, and the airline had yet to ask him what he wanted for dinner. He needed something because he wasn't ready to let go yet, his mind wandering back to Phoenix and his warm skin and his warm smiles. Miles slid the ring onto his finger, although it wasn't the same as when Phoenix had done it. To Miles' surprise, the ring was warm again from being in his own pocket.

Miles decided that maybe he would start keeping his ring in his pocket not because he wanted to keep it a secret or fall into a habit he had picked up from his mentor, but because when he slipped it on after it spent some time in his pocket he could pretend that it was warm from Phoenix, instead of himself. It would be his own private piece of Phoenix to keep with him, meant for him alone. Miles supposed that that was what the ring was supposed to mean in the first place.

And just maybe that would get him through the day feeling a little less cold in the absence that Phoenix's goodbyes always left in his heavy heart.


End file.
